


You Drive Me to Distraction

by theresalwaysaway



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boston, F/M, Fitz drives for Uber, Fitz is an extrovert, Meet-Cute, Uber
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 06:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7746079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theresalwaysaway/pseuds/theresalwaysaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma Simmons takes an Uber to a swanky downtown restaurant.  On the way, she and her driver, Fitz, immediately establish an easy rapport.  But will their budding relationship survive beyond the end of the trip?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Drive Me to Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to amanda-rex for beta-ing!

_I’m going out. That’s enough tech talk for one week. It’s Friday and time to let loose. Moreover, my boss would approve._ Jemma chuckled to herself. Her boss? She was the boss. Sort of. Her grandfather had been gradually relinquishing the reins to her over the past five years. Everyone knew she was the heir apparent. He planned to retire in three years and she would take over officially. Jemma Simmons would be 25 years old and the youngest CEO in the UK. 

She had wanted to come to the conference, of course, to hear about any and all technology that might help her railway company. But she had been in Boston (or some suburb anyway) for too long without venturing outside the confines of the conference. _Where am I?_ Glancing down at the shiny hotel guide in her room she discovered she was in Lexington. _I have been here for a whole week and haven’t done any sightseeing. My boss is a real taskmaster. Ha!_

What really intrigued her was Newbury Street in Boston. With its shops, spas and trendy restaurants, it sounded like the perfect night out. She double-checked her Uber app and discovered it was time to head to the lobby. “Fitz” was her driver. He had a friendly face and drove a black Prius. _Perfect. There he is._

He got out of his car and opened the right rear passenger door. “Jemma?” It was standard practice to wait for the driver to announce the passenger’s name for security reasons. Hardly cloak and dagger spy games but it always felt sort of clandestine and dangerous.

“That’s me!” Jemma dropped into her seat.

“How are you today?” queried Fitz, once he was settled. He always chatted with his customers. A comfortable customer was a happy customer--one more likely to give him the coveted 5-star rating. 

“Looking forward to a night out! All week I’ve been holed up at this conference. It wouldn’t kill me to have a little fun.”

“Where are these festivities happening?”

“254 Newbury Street, Boston, please. A little shopping, a little sushi.” 

Fitz pulled out into traffic, noting her English accent. “Is this your first time in the Boston area?

“Yes, first time in America, actually.”

“I take it you haven’t seen many of the sights.”

“None. Admittedly it has been a self-imposed confinement. But now that I’ve escaped, you know what I’d really like to see? Harvard. Or MIT. Are they anywhere nearby?”

“Yes! They're practically on the way! We could drive past both Harvard and MIT if you’d like.”

“Oh, could we? I’ve heard so much about them.” Jemma leaned forward, eyes shining, and rested her hands on the seat in front of her. 

“It’ll extend the ride a little; it’s up to you.”

“Please, that sounds wonderful!” Jemma sat back as her hands gave a little clap. “My little outing just got more exciting.”

Fitz tapped a bit on his phone to reset the GPS to give it a new destination. “OK, then it’s all set. Was the conference you attended the one on Materials Science and Engineering?”

“Yes? How did you know?”

“I know someone who presented at that conference. I’m giving all that up now, though, at least temporarily.”

“Giving up what exactly?” Jemma leaned forward in her seat and turned her head toward Fitz.

“Engineering. A PhD in Mechanical Engineering is no guarantee of success at it turns out.”

“You’re giving up engineering to drive for Uber?”

“Oh, no, this is just a something to keep me from depleting my savings until I start at Harvard Business School.”

Jemma’s eyebrows raised. “Oh!”

“I’ve been involved with three failed startups in three years. Not enough venture capital, marketing issues... Ethical. Issues.” Fitz emitted a small sigh. 

“Oh, dear.”

“That’s why I made the decision not to work for anyone until I understood the business side of things.”

“Well, I hope you find what you're looking for. Education has always fascinated me partly because I never went for a degree myself. My grandfather says, ‘Sweetheart, you're getting yourself a PhD from the school of hard knocks.’ But before I forget, how is it that you knew people at the conference?”

“Was my old study partner Alphonso Mackenzie in attendance?”

“Yes! He gave a talk about steel fatigue that I really couldn't follow.”

“I can try to explain it to you, but before I forget, how are you getting this education?”

“My grandfather is grooming me to take over the family railway business.”

Fitz merged onto the highway. “Why did the top job skip a generation? That’s rather non-traditional.”

“My father discovered he enjoyed riding the rails more than inspecting them. He’s quite a successful travel writer now. Good marketing, actually. When Dad announced he wasn’t taking over, my grandfather was furious. After he calmed down, Grandpa came by the house, grousing and complaining. ‘What do we do now?’ I clearly didn’t know my place because I piped in with, ‘Why don’t you start by closing the Milton line?’ They both just stared at me.”

Fitz glanced back to show he was listening. “Go on.”

“I didn’t see myself as an upstart; It was a logical suggestion. That line didn’t have many passengers and was losing money. I could see the wheels turning in both their minds while my father and grandfather exchanged looks. The way my father smiled, I knew I was going to take over for grandfather. Pretty heady stuff for a 17-year-old.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat realized she’d been talking about herself a tad too long. “But enough about me. What kind of engineer did you say you were?”

“Mechanical, why?”

“And you’re familiar with material science?”

“Sure. A lot of undergraduate classes dealt with the structural properties of various materials. If you want to build things, you have to know what makes good materials to build out of.”

“So that’s how you know all about steel fatigue.”

Fitz blinked. “Right, you wanted to know about Alphonso’s work.” Fitz explained about shear strain, hardness variation, and compression as steel rails wear over time, making the concepts so clear to her that she wished he'd been next to her at the presentation. 

“Thanks Fitz, that’s very helpful.” 

“Doesn’t your company have people for that?”

“No. Well, we have engineers, but not the sort produced by MIT.” 

“I’ve always had a secret desire to drive a train.”

“I've done it.” Her eyes lit up, remembering. “It’s quite thrilling, actually.”

“You could say we’re both engineers!”

“I will! We’re both engineers!” she cheered, adding, “If you ever find yourself planning a trip to England, let me know. I’d love to show you around my company. You might even get a chance to drive one of our locomotives.”

“If I do, it sounds like I should look for your dad’s travel guide.”

“You say the nicest things. It’s called T.R.A.C.K.S. by Arthur Simmons. It stands for something, but I can’t remember what.”

They were both silent as they rounded the top of the hill and Boston was spread out before them. A jumble of houses gave way to a cluster of office buildings, punctuated by two gleaming skyscrapers.

“That’s it. The greater Boston area,” explained Fitz. Jemma leaned forward to get a better look through the front windshield.

While they enjoyed the view, Jemma asked, “Do you see yourself as an entrepreneur? Do you want to start your own company?”

“I’m not sure yet. I want to learn the building blocks of business. Then I wonder if I could engineer a company. Could I use my analytical skills to visualize and solve business problems?”

Jemma was impressed. She'd never heard anyone talk like that. Fitz was so fascinating, she nearly offered him a job on the spot before she caught herself. “Analytical ability in business is certainly a plus. So often, unwise business decisions seem to be based on emotion.” Close one, Jemma!!

“Exactly, and how many lives are changed because of short-sighted business decisions? How many innovations lost?” Fitz expertly entered a rotary as he spoke. 

“We have these in England, but we go the other direction,” she gulped. When they were through and travelling straight again, she continued. “So. Lost innovations. Were you specifically talking about your innovations?”

“I’m not bitter, really, I’m just determined for it not to happen next time.” Fitz approached another rotary. Jemma was riveted as Fitz changed lanes just in time for the appropriate exit. 

“That’s the last one.”

“And I was just getting used to them. You mentioned a next time. Do you have a brilliant innovation in the pipeline?”

“I’m sorry,” he teased. “You’ll have to sign a nondisclosure agreement to get the details. And….” He fumbled around opening various compartments and shook his head. “I’m fresh out.” He turned around and grinned. 

“What a shame.” Jemma grinned back and Fitz put his eyes back on the road.

“I might be working on a new type of motor, but you didn’t hear it from me.” Fitz waggled his eyebrows. “How long before you take over?"

“In three years, I will be running the largest rail company in the UK.”

“Wow.” 

“Yes, and I’m afraid grandfather is rather stuck in his ways, but I want to take the company in a new direction with new technology, new automation, new kinds of materials. I’m determined to learn all I can now, so I am well-equipped to implement changes for the good of the company when I’m in charge.”

“A business person with respect for technology. Be still my heart!” Fitz put his hand up to his chest.

“Are they really that hard to come by?”

“As rare as the accepted Harvard applicant. Speaking of which, that’s Harvard University and just ahead is Harvard Square. More of a triangle really. Harvard Yard is through the gate on the left, but we’ll get a better look at it when we loop around.” They passed brick buildings surrounded by a wrought-iron fence, and then a more modern shopping area on the right. Traffic and people were everywhere. They meandered around side streets of Cambridge past quaint little parks, shops, and ancient dwellings.

“How old are these houses?”

“Some of them go back to the 1700s.” 

Jemma burst out laughing. “That’s not old! Where I’m from, _actual_ England, as opposed to _New_ England, we have buildings much older than that.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” What he wasn’t sure of was if he could get her to laugh like that again, but he certainly wanted to try. He found it a pleasant sound.

“Ooooo. Is that actually the Harvard Book Store? That’s really something.” Jemma tried to see what was on display in the front window.

Fitz took a left onto Massachusetts Avenue. “I don’t think it’s the official one, but it’s a nice place. I like to browse there myself.” Fitz put on his best tour guide voice. “But if you want official, let me draw your attention to your right, there it is: Harvard in all its glory.”

The two- and three-story buildings conformed to the same look: red brick with double-hung windows, trimmed in white. Their oversized chimneys spoke of an earlier era. As Fitz followed the avenue around to the right, Jemma drank in every detail. 

“And that is Johnston Gate and Harvard Yard,” intoned Fitz. Jemma caught a glimpse through the open gate of its grassy areas, crisscrossing sidewalks, and shade trees of every size dotting the landscape. 

“This is fantastic. I never could have navigated this myself in a rental.” 

“Take one more look at the first university in America.” Jemma looked out the back window.

With an air of good-natured superiority, Jemma commented, “It appears absolutely adequate. I’ll commend whoever had the good sense to name this city after our original.”

“Agreed, my fair patron.”

“I would agree I am your fare patron because I’m paying the fare.”

“Ah, Clever, too!” 

“I bet you say that to all your customers.”

“Just the engineers. And in that vein, we’ll head to my old stomping ground and alma mater, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.”

Jemma watched the as Victorian homes slowly gave way to modern apartment buildings. 

She was enjoying the back and forth with Fitz. _Partners. We should be partners._ Unlike the current velocity of the car she was in, Jemma’s interior dialogue was going a mile-a-minute. _What kind of partners? Tennis partners? Partners in crime? No, silly. Business partners. But how would that even work? We’re smart, we’d figure it out. Not just business partners, something more._ Jemma’s stomach tightened and she grabbed on to the armrest for dear life. _Stop it, he’s just very nice. He’s a nice person who is nice to all his customers._

Fitz glanced in the rear view mirror and noticed that Jemma’s face had blanched. “Am I driving too fast?” 

“No! No. I'm a bit preoccupied. Thinking of the future.”

“Leadership is a big burden. Do you think you’ll be ready to take over?” 

Jemma was content to let Fitz assume that she was thinking about that aspect of her future. “I used to think so. But evidently, the more I learn, the more there is to learn.”

“I know exactly how you feel.” They were stopped at a light. Fitz turned around and offered his hand. “Welcome to the club.” A small spark jumped between their hands. “Oh! Sorry.”

“Just a little static electricity.”

“It’s the initiation.”

“Ah. How much are the dues?”

“You’ve already paid.”

“I think I like this club, I’m not much of a joiner--”

“Hey,” Fitz interrupted, “You should, though. Join the American Society of Mechanical Engineers. Or its British equivalent, at least. You’d stay up on the latest technology and conferences.”

“Of course, I’m sure we have one at home. You think I should join even if I’m not an engineer?”

“You don’t have to be. Besides, I thought we established that you are one.”

“There you go again, being helpful. I think this ride is paying for itself in terms of all the free consulting I’ve gotten out of you.” _I wish I could return the favor. It would be interesting to hear about what they teach at Harvard Business School. I could tell him if it actually works that way in real life._

“Here we are: straight ahead is MIT.” Before them sat a massive modern building, at least eight stories high of white granite, glass and steel. They continued down Vassar Street and Jemma let out a gasp.

“What. Is. That?” It was crazy. It was a building of sorts, yes, but it looked like a gigantic pop-up book that hadn’t quite unfolded.

“That's our Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Laboratory. It’s much more stable than it looks. Although, that’s more than I can say for one of their researchers. Dr. Holden Radcliffe is actually working on something called a Life Model Decoy. He’s seriously trying to build a human robot. It’s like something out of a comic book!”

With that, Jemma laughed again. It was music to Fitz’s ears.

They came upon a concrete and gold glass structure. “This is the Electrical Engineering and Computer Science building -- which reminds me, have you thought about cyber security and the possibility of people hacking into your railway computer systems?”

“I don’t really have a handle on that, but you bring up an excellent area to look into.”

“I’m no expert either, but I could hook you up with some knowledgeable people who could advise you. If you’d like.”

Fitz was making himself more and more valuable by the minute. She would definitely need to get his contact information. After a left turn onto Massachusetts Avenue, Fitz announced, “And on our left, the venerable School of Architecture.” Jemma could see the concrete building with Corinthian columns as Fitz continued, “But more importantly, behind it is the Mechanical Engineering wing, where I spent many an afternoon soldering, studying, and generally slaving away. Good times!” 

“You make it sound so appealing!” she joked. Jemma pictured Fitz showing her around one day, pointing out his old lab, the room where he and Alphonso hammered out details of their joint project, and the pub where they celebrated the end of finals. There they were, in her imagination, holding hands preparing to cross a busy street. _Goodness, Jemma, you’ve only just met the man!_ Still, they would probably correspond in the future, right? And given that possibility, “Fitz? It’s Fitz, right?”

“All day, every day.”

“Is there any chance we could swing past Harvard Business School? I’m just curious.” It would be nice to get a visual on where he’d be in the Fall.

“Absolutely, madam. Not a problem at all.” They had stopped at a light and the Boston Skyline appeared. “That’s Boston across the river. Newbury Street is near that big blue glass building, the John Hancock Tower. To the right of that, the other building, the one that looks like it’s wearing a hat? That’s the Prudential building.”

The signal changed and Fitz moved forward to join the line of cars heading over the Mass Avenue bridge. “Below us is the Charles River. Harvard Business School is over that way.” Fitz gestured to his right. 

The expanse of steel blue water sported many flecks of white, sailboats bouncing along the surface. Separating the water from the sharp lines of the buildings was a soft row of trees. 

“Can I ask you another question?”

“You want to add a fourth stop to the tour? Speak now or forever hold your peace...I’ll take this next right for the business school unless you want to see--”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just, well, you don’t really seem the engineer type.” The engineers she met at the conference were stiff, shy, and only showed confidence once in their little niche of expertise. Fitz made a right hand turn.

“Oh?”

“You're far too extroverted. It’s not really a question, is it? I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You've correctly analyzed the situation. Indeed, I am the rare engineer who enjoys conversing with the general population. I have friends who tease me that I finally found a job where I get paid to talk to people.” 

“You seem well suited to be the head of a tech company.”

“Let's hope your words prove to be prophetic. And with that, Harvard Business School is now visible on your left.” Fitz had never connected with a passenger in quite this way before. He didn't want the ride to end, didn't want his connection to her to fade away the moment they reached her destination. He remembered the business cards he kept in the console. _Don’t forget to give her one before she gets out._

“Impressive.” It had the same feel as Harvard University: wide lawns, and behind them, red brick buildings with white trim. “What are you most looking forward to?”

“Ah. Discovering the inner workings of finance. It’s just math, after all. I think I could be good at it.” _International finance might be good to know for the future._ “And I’d like to hear what they think of a new style of management where there are no managers.”

“Huh.” Jemma thought for a moment. “Really, if you hire good people, they should be competent enough to make informed decisions without relying on managers to give them direction all the time.”

“Yes, hiring would seem to be a key component. Isn’t it always?”

“I like how you think.’’

They had finished their tour of institutions of higher learning. “I can’t thank you enough for the tour, and your marvelous insights along the way. I've truly enjoyed having you as my driver.”

“Anytime. In fact, I’ll give you my card and you can contact me directly if you need a ride, next time you’re in town, or even to the airport. When do you leave?”

“My flight is tomorrow morning.” 

Fitz handed her the card. “That’s my cell. Text me and I’ll see what my schedule is. If I can help you out, I’d be happy to be your friendly neighborhood Uber driver.”

“Or my engineering consultant? Here’s my card. It has my email address.” 

As she held the card out to him, Fitz noticed flashing blue lights coming up behind the car.

“Thank you. You can just leave it on the front seat there. I’m going to let this police officer go by.” Fitz couldn’t imagine the officer was targeting him, but when he pulled over, the blue lights followed. He slowed to a stop and so did the police car. It was an Uber driver’s worst nightmare. “It seems I’m being pulled over. I’ll end your ride here and you can request another Uber driver,” he said grimly. 

Jemma wouldn’t hear of it. “I’m not leaving.”

Fitz gathered his license and registration as the officer approached the window. 

“Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“No, officer, I honestly don't.”

“You just ran a red light.”

“I didn't see a red light, sir.”

“Who's with you in the car today?” 

“My passenger, sir. I’m driving for Uber.” Jemma did her best to smile politely at the officer.

“Where are you headed?”

“Newbury Street.”

“Sit tight. I’ll be back.”

Fitz sat dejected. “Look, I’m sorry about this ma’am--”

“Please, it’s Jemma. Remember me? We’re in the same club. I don’t care what he says. I didn’t see any red light either. It was clearly yellow and you were too close to the intersection to stop.”

“But I don’t want you to have to wait. I’ll end this ride then you can request a new driver.” It had gone from being one of the best fares ever to one of the worst.

“I don’t mind, really.” They sat in silence while they waited for the policeman to come back. “What is he doing do you think?”

“Oh, they’re checking the license plates. Making sure I’m not a terrorist. Also writing me a ticket, most likely.” Fitz’s mind whirled. This was terrible. For him, for his passenger. He really shouldn't allow his passenger to be delayed for this reason.

“Listen...Jemma, did you make a reservation?”

“No. My schedule's wide open. I’ll still have plenty of time.”

“You’re sure.”

“I’m sure. _You’re_ my driver.”

“I can’t apologize enough. This has never happened before. It’s highly irregular and you are being very gracious.”

“You've done nothing wrong and I don’t see why you can’t take me the rest of the way.” She emphasized her words by falling back in her seat and crossing her arms in front of her, but she immediately sat up straight again when she saw the officer was back.

The officer handed Fitz the paperwork along with a little white paper that read “CITATION” across the top in red. “You’re free to go. Pay more attention to those lights. Good afternoon, then.”

It was just as Fitz had dreaded. He looked at the citation, saw there was a $100 fine, and tried not to react. He glanced in the rear view mirror and caught Jemma looking at him with pity.

“How bad is it?”

“Could be worse.” Could it? This was humiliating. 

Fitz pulled out and let out a long sigh. They drove for a few minutes in silence. Jemma stared out at the tree-lined river, feeling bad for Fitz. He was the best Uber driver she’d ever had and she thought he'd just been treated very unfairly.

“Can I see it?”

“Can you see what?”

“The ticket.”

“Oh.” Traffic had slowed considerably on Storrow Drive, as it typically did at rush hour on a Friday. He handed the slip of paper to her. _What a story she'd have to tell her friends back in England._ He sighed again.

Jemma examined it carefully. She'd been focusing recently on the precise reading of contracts and above all, she knew every detail in a legal document was important. Yes, the officer had filled in the line that read “assessment” with “$100”. _That’s just awful._ She flipped it over and read the instructions. ‘If the warning box is checked, no action is required. If the civil infraction box is checked, send payment to address on the front.’ She flipped back to see which box was checked, smirking at what she found there. She went back to read the instructions again. “Fitz!”

“Yes.”

“There isn’t a box checked.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s quite plain. I’m not a lawyer, but… Let me read it to you. ‘If the civil infraction box is checked, send payment to address on the front.’ If. _If_ the box is checked. But it’s not checked!”

“Is it a warning, then?” 

Jemma frowned. “The warning box isn’t checked, either.”

“Can I have it back?” Traffic had stopped again and he took the opportunity to inspect it for himself. It might be premature, but he began to feel a spark of hope.

“You’re right, there’s no box checked.”

“Of course I’m right. You didn’t run a red light, and you won’t have to pay.” Jemma said with conviction, and accompanied her words by hitting the top of the front passenger seat.

“Let’s hope. But why didn’t he just give me a warning?” 

“I don’t know. Do you have to know everything?”

“Yes!” he insisted, perhaps a little too strongly. 

“I do, too.”

Traffic started up again and they were both lost in their own thoughts until, suddenly, Fitz started laughing. 

“What's so funny?”

“It’s ludicrous really. Nobody can know everything.”

“True.”

“It’s the curse of the curious that they are never satisfied.”

“Who said that?”

“I did, just now.”

“I like it. The curse of the curious...well, I don’t like curses, but...” Her words trailed off. She was curious about what it would be like to have dinner with Fitz.

“I think I can live without knowing why the officer didn’t check any of the boxes.”

“Really? See? That’s progress.”

“And look, we’re finally making progress on Storrow.” He turned off at Kenmore Square. “I’m still calling city hall on Monday to confirm it, but until then, I’m going to stop worrying about it.”

“Me, too.” 

Something hit him. _Had she really been worried?_ It touched him, strangely. How had they bonded in just over an hour? It was unprecedented, in his experience. “Five more minutes and we’re there.” He turned onto Commonwealth Avenue.

Jemma gaped at the well-kept townhouses, stacked neatly like tightly-packed books on a shelf. Wide sidewalks and pristine gardens ran along both sides of the street, but Jemma’s attention was focused on the greenspace. “What’s this? A park down the middle of the street! How wonderful!” 

If she'd accepted him as her tour guide, well, that’s what he would be. “It runs nearly the entire length of Comm. Ave. and ends at the Boston Public Gardens. Definitely the high-rent district. Nice, huh?”

“It’s lovely.”

“This is Newbury Street, the shopping district of the rich and famous.” 

“And me.” 

“You’ll soon be famous. At least in England.”

“And so will you! I can see it now:” She gestured with her hand as if scrolling out a headline. “Famed inventor produces self-driving car, putting Uber out of business.”

Fitz’s eyebrows went up, he looked around furtively, and put his finger to his lips. “Shhhh. You haven’t signed a nondisclosure agreement yet.” He sobered. “Seriously, thanks for sticking with me...despite the...delay.” He got out and walked around the car to open her door.

“No, no. Thank you,” she replied.

“And thanks for catching the box thing. I may very well have just sent in the payment. I won't ask you for five stars. Do as you see fit.” He shook her hand.

“Please. Five stars it is.” She held his hand and his gaze for just a microsecond longer than necessary, and then dropped his hand and looked at the ground. “If I need a ride back, what do I do?”

“You can just use the Uber app and you’ll be assigned someone. You can’t actually request a particular driver. But if after everything that's happened, you’d still want me to drive you, text me. Don’t feel obligated, I'll totally understand if you don’t.” Fitz had edged his way back to his car as he spoke. “I’ll be driving for the next few hours. I’ll be around.”

“Good, you’ll be hearing from me.” She gave a little wave. “Bye for now, then.”

“Have a great evening.”

“You, too.”

Jemma watched as Fitz got back into his car and drove away. 

* * *

Jemma was pleasantly full of sushi and Udon and thoughts of Fitz. She replayed the events of her ride with him over and over as she shopped. It was very distracting and several times, she had to catch herself or she would have absent-mindedly spent far too much money. She was quite content not to have a dinner partner as her mind drifted to various ways they could keep in touch. _There’s always Skype._ Now, as she waited for the check, she was excited about the possibility of seeing him again. 

Jemma: `Are you still available for a ride? This is Jemma. Thanks.`

Fitz: `At your service...should you choose to accept it. Are you still at 254 Newbury Street?`

Jemma: `Yes. I am significantly more heavily laden than last you saw me. I may or may not have gone on a little shopping spree.`

Fitz: `The Prius has a surprisingly large cargo area. My GPS is telling me I am 10 minutes away.`

Jemma: `Thank You! I’ll be out front. I’ll be the one behind all the bags.`

When Fitz arrived, he rolled down his window and caught Jemma’s eye. “Hi, again!”

“There’s my favorite Uber driver.” He regarded her fondly and put the car in park.

He asked her to start the Uber app and request a ride while he placed her many bags into the trunk. “I don’t get many repeats.” He tapped on his phone when it chirped that he had an incoming request. 

“How many repeats have you had?”

“You’re the first. Where are we headed?”

“Home. For now, that's Lexington.” _But anywhere you want to go is fine._

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a real Uber ride where the passenger wanted a tour of Harvard and MIT on her way to Newbury Street. The part where the Uber driver got pulled over for (not) running a red light and the officer failed to fill out the citation completely is also based on an actual ride.


End file.
